


god and void

by lorspolairepeluche



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, i am a weak soul who wants the good kids to live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 06:25:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17340236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorspolairepeluche/pseuds/lorspolairepeluche
Summary: After the Infection is purged, what is left? Who is left? And what can they do?





	god and void

The Hollow Knight stumbles, and Hornet catches them, staggering a bit under their greater weight and height. “Careful,” she warns gently, helping them upright again. “We have a long way to go.”

They nod and continue in her wake, looking around at things they have not seen in years. Every several seconds, Hornet has to turn around and call for them, and they turn back toward her, away from whatever they were staring at this time, and hurry sheepishly to catch up. She would be irritated if it were anyone else, but the Hollow Knight can be excused; the land has changed since they were last out in it. Greenpath is not what it once was, but Hornet sees small new buds on every few branches, and a small hope grows larger in her.

There are no infected creatures here now, no Mosskin wild with the glow of sickness in their eyes and growing on them like boils. The sacrifice has purged them, and now they lay quiet and dead on the ground. The forest will stink for a while, but as it decays, it will also bloom anew. And beyond it, the stony hills, stoic for ages, will lose their forbidding sharpness and give their bases gifts of tiny stones, children of their softening. The City of Tears may thrive again, though not with its old nobility and its same guards — all were driven to dullness and dumbness by the infection. Even the poor Hollow Knight, set to guard the kingdom, ultimately proved unequal to the task. And Hornet does not begrudge them that; no one should have been placed against that alone, no matter how pure and strong the king believed the Knight was. And now they, like the kingdom, have their second chance.

She turns to call them forward again, but this time, they are not gazing at some bird’s nest or off at the path already traversed, but ahead, past Hornet. They point with one long, thin arm, their eyes — still black as the deep hole they and their like were born from — wide and unblinking.

Hornet follows their gaze just as she hears a rustle. Her needle is out in an instant, her other arm reaching behind her to hold the Knight back, protect them. “Show yourself!” she snaps at the sound. “If you’re not infected, speak!”

“Don’t attack! Please.” Another figure emerges from behind a tree, a tattered grey cloak not unlike the Hollow Knight’s around them. Their voice is hoarse, as if unused for a long time before now. “We mean you no harm. We’re not infected. I’m Vesa.” They gesture to someone behind them. “I think it’s safe; come on out.”

The one who creeps out behind them looks barely larger than a child, but the proportions are wrong — or just right, Hornet realizes, the tip of her needle dipping as her ready stance dissolves. “Little ghost?”

“They told me they like to be called Knight,” Vesa supplies helpfully. But Hornet has fallen to her knees and held out her arms, and Knight is running to her, throwing their short arms around her, hugging tight.

“I thought you were gone forever,” Hornet whispers. “You disappeared; your mask was there on the ground, broken… You were dead.”

“Not dead,” Vesa explains. “Just…separated. I found their soul floating around, a little confused and a lot lost. I managed to restore them, since our father made me with a little too much of him in me.”

A thin hand reaches out from behind Hornet, patting Knight on the head a little hesitantly. But Knight stands on tiptoes to nuzzle into the Hollow Knight’s palm — _I forgive you. You were not yourself._ The Hollow Knight relaxes and pets Knight’s head a little more lovingly.

“Oh, sweet gods.” Vesa’s voice is an awed, almost reverent whisper.

The Hollow Knight’s hand stops for a second, all of them freezing as they recognize their own black eyes in Vesa, older now, without the wide emptiness of their youth, but still…

“Sibling!” Vera rushes forward now, and the Hollow Knight catches them in his arms as Hornet caught Knight, picking Vesa up and swinging them around in the most joyful act Hornet has ever seen them make. “I thought I’d never see you again.” Vesa’s eyes are leaking tears of dark ichor by the time the Hollow Knight sets them down and hugs them hard. “When Father — when the king — left me — I was so scared for you.”

The Hollow Knight lets go and points to their own chest, cocking their head. _Me?_

“Yes, you, silly! You were going to be sealed, all alone except for her — exactly what I was scared of happening to me. I told Father so, and he…”

“He left you like all the others,” Hornet finishes for them, still hugging Knight.

Vesa nods quietly. “He thought I was different — I _was_ different; he put more of himself in me, like I said. He didn’t realize he’d put too much in until I told him I was scared. I wasn’t supposed to be scared; I wasn’t supposed to be anything. Strange, that he gave his subjects the power of thought and free will and then crafted his children so they had neither.”

“She could twist thoughts and bend wills,” Hornet reminds them. “The Vessels were supposed to contain her, so they could have neither. It still wasn’t fair.”

Vesa’s smile is wan and sad. “No. It wasn’t. But it was the best chance he had to save his kingdom.” They shake their head, as if to clear it of the dark thoughts, and turn back to the Hollow Knight. “Anyway! You’re here!” It’s Vesa’s turn to cock their head, as if listening. “Thika? Yes, it’s a lovely name. I’ll call you that.”

“Can you…hear them?” Hornet asks.

Vesa winces. “Yes. I could — I can — hear all my siblings. But I tried to concentrate on the ones I wanted to listen to. And now…” They gesture helplessly. “They’re all gone too. What _happened?_ Something…changed in the world. I felt it.”

Hornet stands, squeezing Knight’s little hand. “Knight fought her. Fought her and won. I thought they’d sacrificed themself to do it, to free Thika — and everything else — from her infection.”

“They would have, if I hadn’t been in the right place at the right time.” Vesa smiles and twiddles their fingers in a small wave at Knight, who waves cheerily back. “But I’ve always had that gift of hearing my siblings. Knight was the first one I heard after the change and the sudden silence. Oh, _wow,_ this is jumping all over the place. Let me just — start from the beginning. I’m Vesa. Thika’s my big sibling; Knight is my little sibling. And you are…?”

“Hornet,” she answers formally. “Daughter of — ”

“Oh!” Vera’s black eyes sparkle with recognition. “Herrah’s girl! Yes!” Hornet takes a step back as Vesa hurries to her and hugs her too. “I heard about you; Mother said Father and Herrah had had a daughter. You’re my sister!”

“Well — yes. Half-sister.” Hornet remains bewildered by the sudden affection. Is Vesa _sure_ they’re one of the emotionless Vessels?

“Oh, I’m sure I’m a Vessel,” Vesa says. “Just not emotionless.” They shrug one shoulder, a little of the joy going out of them for a moment as they say, “It’s why Father…discarded me. She would have turned me if I’d been the one sealed with her. I was too vulnerable. It was the right decision.”

Thika shakes their head so hard that it whooshes in the air. _No. Not right. Not fair._

“Wait, wait.” Hornet holds up her hands. “You can hear my thoughts too?”

“Not as clearly as Knight’s or Thika’s, but you _are_ Father’s child too, so yes. Gosh, we just keep turning around and around here. We should keep walking, at least. We’ve still a ways to go, don’t we, Knight?”

Knight nods and holds out their other hand to Vesa, who takes it happily, their arm still around Thika. “Well, we’re all but a little family now,” Vesa says warmly.

The leaves crunching under their feet are the only sound in the eerie forest besides Vesa and Hornet talking back and forth. Hornet starts to get the feeling that Vesa is talking to cover the silence as they say, “So I wasn’t one of the first created, but Mother suggested to Father that maybe the others had failed because he made them _too_ empty, and even though he already had Thika, he went with her suggestion and made, well, me. And I was a good Vessel for a while, right, Thika? I was obedient and quiet and I trained hard with my sword.” Vesa’s eyes are expressive for being simply gleaming pools of black, and they fall to the ground as Vesa continues, their voice still upbeat, “But then I started getting flashes of…things. I didn’t realize what they were; I didn’t really have words for them, and I certainly couldn’t speak those words. But Father could hear me, Father listened, so I told him — the same way Thika and Knight talk to me — about what I was experiencing. I had a word for it by then — scared. I was scared of being sealed away from him and Mother and Thika with only _her_ for company. I was scared of being alone. Father told me I didn’t have to be scared, of either being sealed with her, or of being alone, and…”

“And he cast you away,” Hornet finishes softly. Her heart twinges at the image of Vesa, rejected and discarded away from everything they’d ever known. “That’s cruel.”

“I got out eventually,” Vesa says evasively. “It wasn’t awful,” they say even as Knight shivers and presses closer to Hornet.

Thika’s hand squeezes Vesa’s shoulder again, and they look up at their older sibling. “He loved you, you know. I really think he did.”

“It may be why you couldn’t contain the infection forever,” Hornet admits. “You were meant to be hollow, but…the king’s love created something new, something she found and twisted like she did with everything.”

“But that’s over now!” Vesa says briskly, looking directly ahead at the path. “Now we restore our kingdom.”

“Restore?” Hornet stares at them. “You think this kingdom can be restored? After what devastation she wrought?”

“I have to think it.” Vesa keeps their eyes determinedly away from the death strewn around the four of them. “I can’t lose hope now. I can’t let our father’s kingdom go to oblivion quietly like this. Knight’s sacrifice purged her from this place, and now we’re free to rebuild from what’s left. If we let it die silently…we’ve failed him.”

“ _He_ failed _you,_ ” Hornet says hotly, but Vesa holds up a hand.

“He did right by this kingdom, and I will not let that go to waste.” They stop and bend down, picking up a withered flower still with the pockmarks of infection. Cradling it in their palm, they breathe. The edges of Hornet’s cloak flutter in a sudden breeze that rustles what leaves are left, and when Vesa holds the flower out, it is as pure white and alive as it might have been at the kingdom’s height. “What part of him lives in me cannot let her win, even if she is dead. And besides…our Mother is still alive.”

Thika startles, still silent, and grabs at Vesa’s arm, an achingly hopeful question in their eyes. “Yes.” Vera puts their hand on Thika’s arm, looking their sibling in the face, their own delight breaking out. “She’s living in her old gardens. She was always powerful, and she still is. Powerful enough to keep the infection out of her sanctuary. I can take you to her, once we reach the city.”

Knight tugs at Thika’s cloak, and they looks down, a silent conversation flying between the two siblings. “Knight says that Mother thought they were Thika when she first saw them,” Vesa says helpfully to Hornet, but her eyes are on the flower in Vesa’s hand.

“How did you…”

“Ah.” Vesa lifts the flower and inhales its scent. “Among the part of himself that Father gave to me was a piece of his power. I don’t think I could restore life, not fully, but…if there’s a little life left in something, I can help it to grow again. It’s how I helped Knight — sheltered their soul, encouraged it to heal from the little bit left after fighting her back into themself.” They reach up to Hornet’s head and, once she has recovered from recoiling a little, tuck the flower behind her horn. “There. That one’s for you. I’ll restore another for Mother if I can find one.”

Hornet touches the petals tucked into her mask. There is a life to them, a pure, soft something, that she strangely compares to Knight in her head. She watches Vesa hold their hand out to Knight, who takes it eagerly, as she remembers when she first met that vacant, empty Vessel — right here in this forest, when it was bright and alive and horrid with infection. She thought Knight sought to release Thika — and, by extension, Her. She challenged them, nail to needle, and was defeated — and surprised. She knew that day that, for the first time in years, she was wrong. There was hope. The little ghost was nowhere near as empty as they seemed; determination and dedication all but bubbled up and spilled over from them.

And now, with Thika marveling at the world they haven’t seen in nearly half their life and Vesa talking back and forth with them and Knight, Hornet begins to suspect that she knows far less about the Vessels than she thought.

The pale, clouded light of the City of Tears remains, much to Hornet’s surprise, and it grows larger as the four of them near the edge of Greenpath. The capital emerges before them as they traverse the Crossroads, wrought iron darkened by disuse and giving the streets the same gloomy air they had in the days of infection. The rain, of course, is ever-present, but the light is from streetlamps, not the Radiance, and another hope sparks in Hornet that maybe, just maybe, the dripping might stop for the first time in an age.

Vesa stops at the edge of town, their face clouded with some indecipherable expression. “We should go to the palace.”

“The palace disappeared when the infection returned,” Hornet warns.

“It’s where Father’s power was centered,” Vesa insists. “If there’s an idea of how to start using that power to renew the kingdom, it’s there.” They turn to Knight, listening for a moment, and a soft smile crosses their face. “And we’ll visit Mother in her gardens, of course.” Their confidence returns as they hop down and lead the way into the city.

Even here, the gruesome sights continue. The city’s denizens are strewn about the streets as if all suddenly fell asleep. Maybe that is what Vesa is determinedly thinking as they keep their eyes straight ahead, straight down toward the Basin that once held the palace: that perhaps they’re just sleeping, just sleeping, that releasing the king’s power will waken them. Another pang of pity crosses Hornet. Vesa just wants to hope.

The palace’s spires rise above the other buildings long before the four of them reach its black iron gates, and Hornet stops to stare. She’s never actually seen it before; it disappeared before she was allowed to leave Deepnest. The palace shines marble-white even now, perhaps kept clean by its isolation. Hornet watches the other three for their reactions. Knight’s is simplest in that they have very little reaction to it except to cock their head and study it. They were never its beloved child, after all. Thika’s steps become more careful, their back straighter and their chin higher, a princeling returning unconsciously to their old, noble ways. And Vesa…

Vesa’s steps have become slower, their head bowed and cloak tucked close as if pushing against a strong wind to get to their old home. Hornet can’t see their face, but she thinks the most encouraging thoughts she can, hoping Vesa can hear her.

Vesa stops only when the bottom of the gate comes into their vision, and they raise their head hesitantly, looking up at the palace’s towers. “Here we are,” they say softly.

Knight presses closer, Thika puts his hand on their shoulder, and Hornet says, “There is no longer anything to harm you here.”

Vesa swallows hard and nods. “Only duty.” They reach a hand out and grasp one of the bars of the gate, pushing it open. The rusted lock drops off easily, and Hornet wonders that it was still there. No infected creature has invaded the palace this whole time? Perhaps the king’s power does still linger.

The four of them step inside. The silence suddenly lifts for a moment, and Hornet blinks to see the palace grounds bustling with servants and courtiers—and two small Vessels rush past, chasing one another. She blinks again, and it is gone. “Did you see…”

“No,” Vesa says, firmly enough to betray the _yes._ “Nothing. We move on.” As Thika trembles a little, steadying himself on Hornet’s shoulder, Vesa strides forward, no hesitation in their steps, but they pause for the barest instant before pushing open the palace’s main door.

The entrance hall, despite the palace’s outer brightness, is dim. Hornet, keeping her hand at Thika’s back, casts her eyes around it. It’s far bigger than any of her mother’s halls—and she finds she prefers Herrah’s webs already. Her mother’s home may not have been very grand for her status, but it was cozy enough before the infection.

Knight dashes ahead, stopping in the middle of the threadbare carpet to turn in wonder, taking in the high, arching ceiling, the stones untouched by time or blight, the tapestries on the walls, _everything._ They have only seen such glory in memory, even this dark remnant of it, and the reminder all but slams into Hornet that Knight is actually in the majority of Vessels there. Most never saw the palace, were never introduced to anything beyond the dark Birthplace where the king crafted each attempt at his perfect protector. This is Knight’s first glimpse of what would have been, were they luckier or more well-crafted in the king’s eyes, their home.

For the part of the two Vessels who _did_ live in the palace, they hesitate. Vesa keeps their eyes trailing along the carpet, finding paths between each moth-eaten spot. Thika raises their head to gaze at the ceiling and what little light the skylights let in. Its familiarity is a cold comfort to them, if Vesa drawing their cloak closer and Thika’s hands clenching and unclenching are anything to go by.

Vesa starts forward once again, their resolute veneer repaired. “Come on. I can feel what remains of Father’s power coming from inside. To use it, we have to find it first.”

Thika trails and Hornet hangs back with him, even as Knight eagerly runs ahead, peering into every nook and cranny they can find as Vesa leads them into a corridor and down a spiraling staircase. “Thika?” Hornet murmurs. “Are you all right?”

Thika mutely shakes their head and raises their eyes to Vesa’s back. Hornet, of course, cannot hear him, but if they _are_ saying something, Vesa is determinedly ignoring it, walking on like they hear nothing. “What is it?” Hornet asks.

Thika points at Vesa’s back before bringing up their hands. They hesitate, unsure how to sign what they mean, before clenching their hands and folding them down, breaking an imaginary rod. “I don’t understand,” Hornet says. “Vesa…break? What?”

Thika makes a frustrated gesture, then clenches their hands at their chest before throwing them wide. When Hornet still shakes her head, Thika points at Knight. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re saying!” Hornet says.

Thika drops their arms and shakes their head, trudging on after Vesa, who has stopped in front of a door at the bottom of the stairs. “This is it,” Vesa says quietly, hand hovering over the brass knob. “Father’s sanctum.”

Knight wraps his arms around them from behind, and Vesa smiles faintly down at them. “Thank you, Knight. I’ll do my best.”

Thika’s hand lands on Vesa’s shoulder again, heavier this time, and they turns Vesa to face them. A silent conversation passes between them once again before Vesa says, “It is my duty, Thika. I can do no less. You and Knight have played your parts in protecting and restoring our home. It’s what we Vessels were made for, yes?”

A sudden memory flashes across Hornet’s mind, Herrah’s voice, her mother’s voice. _Those poor Vessels — born just to die._ “Vesa,” Hornet says sharply. “What are you planning?”

“The power must have a conduit out into Hallownest,” Vesa says, not looking at Hornet. “It’s Father’s power, and I am the one with the most of him in me. If anyone is to be the conduit, it is me.”

“You can’t handle the power of the Pale King like that,” Hornet blurts. “Knight barely could, and only for a short time. If you plan to release all of it…”

“I can do no less,” Vesa repeats, and pushes the door open.

The fire dancing in its place is the first surprise. The second is the voice that says faintly, “You have come, finally.”

Vesa stops dead, but Knight runs past them to see who sits in the high-backed chair facing toward the fire, spiring crown silhouetted against it. They stop too, when they see who it is.

“Ah,” the Pale King says. “You are the one. You…my greatest failure.” Knight recoils at the words, but the king holds out a calming hand. “I do not mean that you yourself are a failure. My failure was in discarding you and your fellows with no regard for what you could be, beyond what I saw you as. You became our savior, rose from the depths of that place, and I am sorry to have consigned you to it.”

“Are you sorry for Vesa too?” Hornet asks, heat coloring her voice sharp and angry.

The king finally looks behind him. His eyes are milky white — blind — the exact opposite of the Vessels’ pure black ones. “Vesa? Who is…ah. My child.”

Vesa steps hesitantly forward, but it is Thika the king reaches for. “I never thought to see you again, my child. I thought I had paid the perfect cost — you were my child, raised at my side, trained for this very purpose, but…when the infection came, then…then I knew I had failed once again. Yes. Yes, I am sorry. Vesa, did she say you call yourself?”

Thika has not moved, horns lowered ever so slightly, but now he nudges the real Vesa forward, into the king’s outstretched hand. The old man’s brow furrows as he feels at them, hand going to their mask — recognizing the curving horns and hollow eyes. “Another Vessel?” he asks.

“Father,” Vesa whispers, and the king freezes. Moment after moment of silence passes, not one of the four of them willing to break it, before Hornet sees shimmering tears coursing down the king’s old face.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Oh, my child. My _child._ ” He pulls them in and holds them tight against his chest, his head bowed into the gap between their horns. “I have — there are no — there is no possible way to apologize adequately or even come close. You… oh, my child. Vesa. You with too much of me in you. I cannot apologize, but if there were a way, no matter how difficult, know that I would. I was wrong; I was…”

“Father.” Vesa stands up again, wiping at their own face, smearing their black tears across their mask. “There’s a way.”

“Anything,” the king says immediately. “Tell me.”

“The Infection is gone, Father. The kingdom — we can save it. I can save it. I have to save it. It’s my duty.”

“Duty, no, not your duty.” The king shakes his head. “I would not subject you to that, not after everything I’ve — ”

“Father, this is my choice to make.” Vera closes their hand on his. “I have more of you in me than any other Vessel. You’ve sealed your power here to protect this castle, but I can give that power back to the kingdom. We can heal from the Infection, not just purge it.”

“It would kill you as surely as She would,” the king says.

“I know, Father. But what is a Vessel for if not for sacrificing?”

The king grasps Vesa’s wrists tight. “No. Not for sacrifice. I will do that no longer.”

“Father, you must. It is the only way to restore Hallownest.”

“Do not tell me what I must do!” The Pale King lowers his head, shaking. “No cost too great… No cost too great…” He breathes deeply and looks up, releasing Vesa. “Give me your hands, then.”

Vesa puts their hands in their father’s. “We can restore it together.”

“No, this is simply the releasing,” the king says. “The restoring…that will be the work of the four of you.”

Vesa’s head cocks again. “Four? No, three.”

“Four,” the king says, and he begins to glow. The light passes from him to Vesa, and they cry out, but they do not take their hands from his. The two of them grow brighter and brighter until Hornet throws an arm up to shield her eyes and Thika grabs Knight and curls themself around them, thinking _explosion —_

The light fades to a soft, pulsing ember, and Hornet opens her eyes again at the sound of a soft sob.

The king is gone. Nothing is left in his chair, but Vesa kneels before it, curled in on themself, the glow of their father’s power fading around them. Black ichor tears drip to the ground, soaking into the carpet and staining it dark in the light of the fire. “Vesa?” Hornet whispers.

“He released his power,” Vesa says. “And himself with it.” They raise their head to look at their three siblings. “I don’t understand. It was supposed to be me. I was supposed to be the sacrifice.”

“No.” The voice is new, high and sweet, and Knight crouches in front of Vesa and continues, “You were never the sacrifice.”

“You’re the leader.” Thika’s voice is soft and deep. “The only one of us not ruined by infection. You are the one who had the idea to restore Hallownest. You’ll be the one to do it. You’re the new king.”

“No.” Vesa pushes themself to their feet, wiping their eyes again. “No, I am not the king. He was the king. I will never be him. Not in greatness, and not in failure.” They look up at their three siblings, determination renewed and the glow of the Pale King’s power returning to them. “We will rebuild this place, with no king and no Radiance. It will be our place, our Hallownest. It was always too big a job for just one, wasn’t it?”

Thika nods. “That it was. It stretched Father too thin, but if we work together…”

Vesa holds out their hands to their siblings, and as Knight slips their own little hand into one, Hornet agrees, “If we work together, we can do it.”


End file.
